Tablet Lap Pillow

Rivergate's most elite social circle had always shared an unspoken rule. Men were free to play the field as they pleased, drifting from one woman to the next. Women, on the other hand, were only allowed a single, discreet indulgence on the day they came of age—a privately hired "life assistant" meant to take care of their physical needs. … On my coming-of-age day, I picked Elliot at first glance from a hundred applicants who came in for interviews. He wore gold-rimmed glasses, looked composed and restrained, and carried himself with a calm maturity that set him apart. He was steady, meticulous, and obsessively clean. The only condition he agreed to was that there would be no bodily contact—hands only. And after every encounter, he would scrub his hands with disinfectant alcohol a hundred times. Over five years, the empty bottles alone were enough to circle the villa seven times. I used to think that one day, I'd help him overcome his barriers and truly make him mine. That illusion shattered the night I got drunk and accidentally wandered into Elliot's room. Hidden beneath his pillow was a DV camera, and inside were several videos of him pleasuring himself. On the screen, the same man who had always been calm and rational with me was staring at the lingerie of the adopted sister who had caused my mother's death, his Adam's apple bobbing as he moaned her name, "Chloe… I love you…" Only then did I realize that every step he had taken toward me had never been about me at all. It had always been a carefully concealed, long-nurtured love for her. So, it was very odd that he cried when I took my adopted sister's place in marrying someone else.

“Next question.” His eyes locked on her. He was close. Too close. Emily raised the tablet between them. “If your brand—” Scott pressed down on the tablet. Emily backed into the desk. Nowhere left to go. Scott placed his hands on either side of her, caging her in. His face inches from hers. “Scott—” “Next question.” His voice was rough. Emily’s breath caught. Heat flooded her body. “If your brand was a person,” she whispered, “how would you describe her—them?” His eyes dropped to her lips. “Resilient.” His thumb traced her jawline. “Beautiful.” His breath warmed her skin. “Irresistible.” The word hung between them. Emily’s heart pounded. One movement—one inch—and his lips would touch hers. She wanted it. God, she wanted it. “I should go.” Her voice shook. Scott’s jaw clenched. But he didn’t move. “The contract says no physical contact.” His blue eyes burned into hers. “It doesn’t say anything about wanting to.” Emily’s arranged marriage to Ian Hunter was a transaction—his family’s money for her father’s freedom. For three years, she endured his coldness, his cruelty, his mistress. The day his grandmother died, Ian filed for divorce and walked away with everything. Emily’s business collapsed. Ian’s empire grew. Now, she’s desperate enough to make a deal with the devil’s half-brother. Scott Hunter is pitched against his half-brother to claim his billion-dollar inheritance. One of the three requirements is a wife. Emily needs capital to rebuild—and revenge on the man who destroyed her. It shouldn't be. It's unheard of. It's supposed to be a simple contract: one year of marriage, no feelings, no complications. Except Scott can’t stop touching her. And Emily realizes she’s stopped pretending.

Amelia Montgomery is one of Rosewood High's cheerleaders along with her best friend Stella Hayes. Her and Stella have been friends ever since kindergarten when Amelia fell off the monkey bars and Stella helped her up afterwards. Stella has a brother named Easton Hayes and he has always teased Amelia since she was seven. They both agreed that they thought he was a heartless prick who treats girls like rubbish. One Friday night Amelia decided to go to a party. At the party Amelia ends up slipping and falling into her worst enemies lap, but what makes the situation worse is the fact that some drunk dude accidentally stumbles into her causing her to slide forward and lock lips with none other than Easton Hayes. Oh how Amelia's life couldn't be anymore ruined. ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• I lean in so that our noses are touching which causes us to close our eyes as our breaths become more harsher. "I can't stand being friends with you. Everytime I see you all I want to do is push you against a wall and kiss you" he whispers out which makes me smile a little "So, what are you going to do about it?" I ask him teasingly with a breathless voice "This" he says before he connects our lips which makes me reach up and place my hands on his cheeks.

Elena Vance made a fifty-dollar mistake that cost her her freedom. Believing her one-night stand was a high-end escort, she left cash and a mocking note on his pillow, only to walk into a boardroom hours later and realize the man was Adrian Blackwood, the ruthless "Ice King" CEO. Adrian didn't just hold her career in his hands; he held a cocktail napkin marriage license signed in a tequila haze and her father’s $200,000 gambling debt. "You belong to me for six months," he declared, trapping her in a fake marriage to secure a corporate merger. Elena entered the "gilded cage" of Adrian's penthouse expecting a cold, transactional war of wills governed by strict "no-touch" clauses. She remained loyal only to save her father, unaware that he would eventually betray her to their enemies. But the boardroom battles quickly turned lethal. Victor Kane, Adrian’s bitter rival from MIT, obsessed with erasing the Blackwood legacy, sold the company's debt to the Russian Bratva. Suddenly, the fake spouses were forced into a terrifying reality: becoming FBI informants. The "Ice King" melted into a desperate protector, and the graphic designer sharpened into a survivor. Their bond shifted from a business deal to a sacrificial love, forged in the fires of betrayal. But when a mission to plant a bug at a mob wedding ends in a massacre, they realize the FBI is compromised. Stripped of his billions and presumed dead, Adrian stands in the ashes of his empire alongside Elena. A secret brother watches from the shadows, and the Russian mob is closing in. "We have nothing left," Elena whispered, staring into the dark. Adrian gripped her hand, his eyes burning with a new, dangerous resolve. "We have each other. And now, we run."

“Hold her mouth open, she’s too polite to ask for it.” A firm hand grips my jaw, keeping it wide, as another man groans above me, thick and pulsing, his cock sliding against my tongue with punishing rhythm. She was supposed to be a transaction. One night. A girl forced to sell herself for money, and three men who could offer more than she’d ever dreamed, for a price. But Harper isn’t like the others. When she steps into that hotel suite, fragile and brave all at once, she isn’t just agreeing to pleasure. She’s agreeing to surrender. And something about her, about the way she flinches, the way she obeys, the way she doesn’t ask for more, makes them all pause. They own a club built on power, discipline, and unshakable rules. But she doesn’t know any of that yet. All she knows is what it feels like to be touched like she matters, just once. When they ask if she wants more, she says the wrong thing. “I’d have to ask Mark.” What should’ve been a second arrangement turns into a revelation. Because they know what Mark is. And now they know what he’s been doing to her. Two days later, they offer her another night. Same price. Only this time… they don’t plan on letting her go back. “Good girls take it. All of it. Even when it hurts.” I scream into the pillow as one thrusts deeper, harder, while the other presses his weight against my back, whispering filth into my ear and slapping my thigh until I shake.

The day Adrian Knight clinched a contract with our biggest client, I "accidentally" tipped a bottle of ink across the paperwork, voiding it on the spot. Because of that single blot, the project landed in Alex Lewis’s lap, and he won Chairman Henry Carter’s favor almost overnight, moving into the Carter mansion as their future son-in-law and watching his net worth rocket into eight figures. Adrian never blamed me. He just laughed that he’d never been executive material anyway and happily brought me home as his bride. Everyone whispered that, if not for my meddling, Adrian would already be sitting in the Carter family’s executive suite instead of scraping by in an ordinary life with me. Only I knew the truth: stopping him from signing that contract had saved his life. When Adrian learned I was pregnant, he locked me in the basement, fingers digging into my throat. "If it hadn’t been for you," he snarled, "I’d be Henry Carter’s son-in-law by now. You’re the reason I lost Rachel, the princess of the Carter family." That’s when I realized he’d been nursing this grudge for years. After he killed me, I woke up, reborn on the very day Adrian first reached for that fatal contract. This time, I’ll make sure Adrian Knight gets exactly what he wants.

“Don't you dare touch me. You bloody monster,” Eric whispered glaring at me, which only turned me on the more. A beautiful smile crossed my lips; luckily for us, his fake mother was so focused on Katherine, she did not know I was fucking her son before her eyes. “So I am now a monster, huh? That was not what you said yesterday. Or have you forgotten about our hot night?” I asked as I traced my way to his lap again, approaching his groin area. He swallowed hard, his eyes roaming around. “Damien. I am Katherine’s fiancé. your niece” He reminded me as my hands reached his groan, caressing it through the layers of his trousers. “Yesterday you were Mike's boyfriend, and what did I tell you? I don't give a fuck!,” I whispered back. “Now be quiet and try to control yourself” . Eric's life is thrown upside down when his brother is killed on his coronation day, and he now has to become the king. and he can't because he is gay and he has a boyfriend who he loves dearly, or so he thought until he met Damien Monetro, his fiancée's uncle and his former one-night stand

"You certainly do smell nice for a doxy,” He groaned, burying his face in my neck. "You should be mine." I chuckled, sliding my long nails over his neck, right atop his jugular. Hayden froze. “The fuck? Is that-“ “Wolfsbane?” I purred. “Yes it is.” He held his breath for a minute, before gritting out in a low gravelly voice. “Who the fuck are you?” I pulled away, still seated on his lap, grinning wolfishly. My tongue flicked out to lick my fangs before I replied. “Nova. Nova Frost.” ***** At the annual Howl Gathering, eighteen year old Nova Frost finds out that she is mated to the Alpha Hayden of the Storm clan. An Alpha said to rule over the mountain regions with an iron fist. He rejects her without a second thought. That same night, her father is killed along with several other Alphas, one of the few who made it out alive was Hayden. Those who made it out alive are called The Nine. Nova knows Hayden and the nine killed her father and spends seven years sharpening her sword for revenge. Seven years later she attends the howl gathering festival in disguise, out to seduce Alpha Hayden, find out why he and the nine had killed her father and then have her revenge all in the Seven days of the Howl Festival. What could possibly go wrong? Everything.

Amelia's leg tapped against the table as she asked, "What are your thoughts on love?" Her hands were clasped together on her lap, but her eyes sparkled with curiosity. Lucas met her gaze, a smirk playing on his lips. "Love is a waste of time," he replied. "It's a tool designed to weigh people down. Without it, we could achieve so much more." Amelia's eyes lit up with interest; he had just ticked almost all her boxes green. "I agree," she said, her smirk matching his. "Love is nothing but bullshit. We could save a lot of time by keeping our relationship minimal." With a proactive glint in her eye, she added, "What do you say? We should get married to fulfill our filial duties." _____________ Their marriage was a facade, a contract between two individuals who didn't believe in love but were forced to get married to fulfill their obligations. Everything was going as planned, until suddenly... "Have you eaten, dear?" "How is my baby?" "Is he doing well?" Lucas's words, once empty and mechanical, now held a tender tone. Amelia found him falling for her, and she seemed to be falling too. Why were they succumbing to the very thing they once scorned? Love, once a distant possibility, was now becoming an option. But would they choose it?

Grace Hammond lost the most important person in her life, her grandmother, Juliet. Left with little beyond a failing farm and not much clue how to run it, she's trapped-- either she gives up three generations of roots and leaves, or she finds some help and makes it work. When a mysterious letter from Juliet drops a much needed windfall in her lap, Grace knows she has one chance to save the only place she's ever called home and posts a want-ad.The knight that rides to her rescue is Robert Zhao, an Army veteran and struggling college student. A first generation Korean American, Rob is trying desperately to establish some roots, not just for himself, but for the parents he's trying to get through the immigration process, a secret he's keeping even from his best friends. Grace's posting for a local handyman, offering room and board in exchange for work he already loves doing, is exactly the situation he needs to put that process on track.Neither is prepared for the instant chemistry, the wild sweet desire that flares between them. But life in a small town isn't easy. At worst, strangers are regarded suspiciously, and at best, as profoundly flawed-- and the Hammond women have a habit of collecting obscure and ruthless enemies. Can their budding love take root in subtly hostile soil and weather the weeds seeking to choke them out?